


Just One More Peaceful Day

by Thoughts Like A Minefield (Incog_Ninja)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Addiction, Blood Drinking, Blood Kink, Bloody Sex, Dean Winchester Bears the Mark of Cain, F/M, Knifeplay, Obsessive Dean Winchester, POV Dean Winchester, Purgatory, The First Blade (Supernatural), mentions of - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 23:40:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19734004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Incog_Ninja/pseuds/Thoughts%20Like%20A%20Minefield
Summary: Prompt: Ok, I'm gonna need an angsty Dean with the line "I can still remember just the way you taste" from the song "It's Been Awhile" by Staind (Plus screencap in text)





	Just One More Peaceful Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Maddiepants](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maddiepants/gifts).



I can still remember just the way you taste.

You were an addiction, and I know that now. All the time I spent telling Sam he needed to shake the demon blood and Ruby – and there I was with you.

But it always seemed like I was better when I was with you. The Mark and all the shit that came with it disappeared when I was with you. Maybe it didn’t disappear, but it didn’t seem bad or wrong, and I just… wanted.

You.

After I came back from Purgatory, I knew who I was like I never had before. I wasn’t my dad’s pit bull and I wasn’t Alastair’s protégé; I wasn’t Sam’s guardian and I wasn’t anyone’s good time boy. I was purely me – a killing machine, but I had wants and needs. I still do.

After Cain gave me The Mark – I had never in my life felt so purposeful, so alive – and you nurtured that in me. You fostered it.

You.

Your blood and your body – I’d never wanted anything like I wanted you. You stoked the fire and you controlled it. You were the master of me. I was the snake and you were so fucking charming.

_“I just want a taste.” I was on my knees at your feet. You held the First Blade, twirled, sniffed, examined it with that cooler than cool smile._

_You cut your wrist, straight across, not along the vein, but blood poured, regardless, and my mouth watered._

_“Please, baby, please,” I whispered, sinking further into the floor._

You always made me beg, didn’t you? I was out of my mind and inside my own head all at once. The things I wanted and did with you…

_You gave me your wrist, held my head in your hand and watched as I drank. You tasted so fucking good – everywhere, inside and out – your blood and your cunt and your lips and your skin. I would’ve devoured you whole if you’d have let me._

_Then you opened your flowing skirt. You were bare underneath and glistening, wet. You pulled your wrist from my mouth and pulled my face between your legs as you draped a knee over my shoulder, braced one hand on my head and one against the wall._

_Your tart apple and dirty penny blood mixed with the brine of your cunt and I slipped underwater. My tongue lapping at your wet and slick and my red-coated lips – salty, sour, and heady. You came, just from my tongue, shallow and fluttering. But I wanted more._

_I brushed your knee from my shoulder and stood, walking you backward, taking the blade from your hand, shredding your shirt and your skirt until you were naked, and your throat was in my hand._

_I pushed you, shoved you onto the bed, climbed between your open, willing, wet thighs._

_I wanted more of your blood._

_I used the blade, dragged it across your breastbone, not too deep, not as deep as I’d be in your cunt. I just wanted another taste._

_“You wanna_ really _come?” I asked, tossing the blade aside and opening my pants, dropping to all fours over you. “Deep inside, not from some little clit lick.” I said, not waiting for your reply._

_I pushed you open wide, so hard, I pushed inside your wet, wet heat, dropped my mouth to your chest, swiped my tongue over the stripe of blood and thrust._

The things I did to you, that you let me do – encouraged. Jesus, I just…

I don’t know how to look at myself in the mirror when I shave without imagining the razor slicing skin to bleed. Your skin, mine, both of ours, mingling, fucking, coming so hard – over and over.

_“Harder, Dean,” you’d whisper. “Hurt me.”_

You took it all. I was rough and hard and mean with you. And You’d come so fucking wet, pulling me over the edge with you.

Pulling me over all the edges, every time, every place.

But now? Now, I’m me again. I’m… back to normal, I think. Or as normal as I can be.

But I will always remember the way you taste.


End file.
